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Revenge
Adkins was pacing around his office; it had been two days since Agent Jonathan's disembowlment in his own home, and the rest of the offices were on edge with him. They knew they could be shot, dying was part of the job description, but forcibly dismembered and strung across their house? What if their families were home, what if it happened to their families too? He stepped to his desk and pushed on the PA system. "Greetings, FBI agency. I'm aware many of you are concerned about our recent findings within the late Agent Jonathan's house, and allow me to say that those concerns are not to be worried about. They're largely unfounded, as many of you.." He sighed. "Many of you, to my own dismay, most likely won't hit the Godfather himself. I'd like for all of you too, take the menace down, but unfortunately I don't think that will be coming any time soon. So, to reiterate, I'm sure you and your families will be safe from such torture." He let go of the PA button and turned around, his cheek pressing against cold steel, as he glanced over to the side. A large desert eagle was stuffed into his face, the Godfather holding it and looking at him with death in his eyes, the hole still in his suit. "Tell me, Addy. What's this?" He nodded down towards the hole. "It's a bullet hole, Vare." "And how did it come into my suit?" "You were shot." "And whose men did that?" "Mine." "Good, so you're not a complete idiot." He pulled the lever back, ensuring the gun was ready to fire. "Now get on the ground or you're gonna have your very own bullet hole in your head." Adkins complied as the Godfather stepped on him and up to the PA system himself. "Ladies and gentlemen of the Federal Bastards of Investigation, this is that so-demonized Godfather speaking." A rush of feet stomping quickly filled the building, getting louder for a few moments. He continued speaking into the PA, "One person enters this office and poor Addy here gets a bullet in his head, and I'm sure many of you don't want that, do you?" The footsteps quickly stopped. "I thought so. Now, I'm here for a reason. Any one of you is more than willing to receive the same treatment as your former fellow agent if you dare try and hit me again. Is that clear?" He paused for a moment, letting it sink in. "Very good. Now in the meantime, I'm gonna be taking some spoils while I'm here. If you'd like to try and stop me, you're more than willing to throw yourself into the meat grinder. Until then, ciao." He chuckled and pointed his gun at the PA and took three blasts into it, then threw it off the desk. He looked down at Adkins. "Consider this your warning. Hurt another one of my guys again and your guys are gonna be hurting a lot more than they did, capiche?" Adkins slowly nodded. "Good. I'll be seeing you around." He smiled and exited the office. After a few minutes, a wave of agents poured in to check his health, making sure there was no serious injuries. "Sir, are you alright? We heard gunshots-" "I don't have any holes in me, do I?" He stood up and brushed himself off. "Now get out of here, I have work to do." The agents quickly left the room, the last one shutting the door behind him. The Godfather stepped back into the front door of the Clubhouse, carrying two large sacks and threw them on the table in the middle of the parlor. "Two hundred thousand. Here's a bit of luxury money for the rest of you, I don't need it. I've had my fun, and I plan on having a bit more still." He walked back up the staircase and into his office, as the members slowly started to divide up the pile of cash. He grabbed a key from his suit pocket and unlocked a drawer, pulling out his small book and began to scribble into it. I got shot a couple days ago, got fixed up, but now everyone knows if they hadn't already. Guess I don't really have a choice in it anymore. The shooter is dead and suffered. Adkins is scared, or at least, most likely. If anyone else gets hit in battle, pick up the attacker and either make another rat out of them, make them a plaything, or simply torture them in their own house. Up to personal choice at the time. He dumped the book back into the drawer and locked it again, stuffing the key back into his suit, and walked back over to his bed and layed in it, shutting his eyes with a slowly growing grin, falling asleep shortly after.